Mortal Instruments
by Le1a Naberr1e
Summary: Snippets from the life of Padmé Naberrie, ward of Palpatine.  AU.
1. Adoption

**Disclaimer: **Star Wars is the intellectual property of George Lucas and Lucasfilm. I am not making any money out of this - just telling a story. **

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**Mortal Instruments**

**1, Adoption**

(3 months)

The small family huddled into each other for protection, father and grandparents instinctively forming a protective circle around the mother, the baby and the little girl.

They oozed fear and desperation and Sidious smiled at the hopelessness of their defiance.

"Kill the spares."

Like living swords forged from red metal, the Red Gaurds descended on them. A blur of violence and it was over.

The little baby lay in the still warm, still flexible arms of her mother, bawling.

"Bring it."

She was presented to her new "father". He stared down at her red face with a benevolent smile.

Slowly, her tears dried as her tiny heart filled with native fear.

* * *

_TBC_


	2. Purpose

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**2, Purpose**

(18 years)

The Jedi's hair was pale, radiation-bleached and his eyes were a color rarely found on Naboo. She watched him covertly from across the room, trying as she had been taught, to read his mind from the language of his body.

_Even Jedi betrayed themselves_, Father had taught her. _Sometimes in their very stillness._

So Padmé wasn't in the least surprised when he broke out of his stern pose by the door and walked to the wall-window beside her. Up close, his eyes were even bluer than she had realized.

"Finished?" he asked curtly.

She read the lines of tension around those remarkable eyes, set in an _almost_ expressionless face and smiled. "My apologies, Master Jedi. I was bored. There is nothing here as new as you."

He stared at her, his cheeks reddening. "I'm not a Master."

"Oh? I'm sorry. I don't know the distinctions of your rank…"

"You're lying."

Now it was her turn to be surprised – not that he knew she was lying, but the fact he confronted her with it.

She recovered quickly enough, schooling her emotions into a state of cynical serenity, raising one indolent eyebrow. "That's rather rude for a Jedi."

He shifted his feet and shrugged at the same time. "I'm not a Jedi yet," he said softly, not quite meeting her eyes.

She resisted the urge to smile. Of that he was certainly right. A proper Jedi shouldn't have been easier to read than the youngest political aide that worked in the lower floors of the Senate dome.

"A Padawan then? We are somewhat alike then. I'm in training myself."

"Yes, I heard." He raised his eyes, obviously relieved that the topic was shifting away from him. "They say you will run as Senator after the serving Senator's first term."

This time it was harder to suppress the spike of emotion that jumped inside her. "It is unlikely I will qualify. The Parliament will consider it a conflict of interest for two elected officials to come from the same family." It wasn't easy but she managed to bite back the bitterness from her tongue.

The sympathy pouring out of the Jedi helped a little. "That's rather unfair," he said. "Palpatine isn't even really your father."

She started, surprised – even offended at his statement. "He's my father in all the ways that matter," she said seriously. "It was through his efforts that I was found after the Gungans murdered my family. He's raised me, provided me with education, support and all the opportunities I could wish for. My own family could not have done better."

"Still," he insisted. "They're your family. Your blood…"

She laughed to hide her anger. "That is an odd thing for a Jedi to say. Your people teach us to regard bonds of shared values, purpose and vision as much and if not higher than the ones of common race or family ties. Or is this a case of 'do-as-I-say-or-not-as-I-do'?"

He didn't back down, as she had half-expected him to. Instead, he stared at her with eyes that seemed to see too much. "Like I said, I'm not a Jedi yet."

He was a little bit taller than her. She only just realized that.

"I hope we are not interrupting."

For the second time that day, she was caught of guard. The tall doors to her Father's inner chamber had opened. His audience with the Jedi had ended and the three figures now regarded her and the Jedi Padawan.

There were few men who could make Father look small in Padmé's eyes and Master Dooku was one of them. But not even a diminishing of height could stop the rush of affection that she felt when she regarded him, his hands folded behind a figure that got chubbier every day – she'd have to look into the caterer's schedule – his gaze that endearing mix of amusement and concern that it was always was when it rested on her.

She gave him a special smile before she approached the second Jedi, and bowed low enough that her head was almost level to the diminutive figure.

"Master Yoda, it is an honor to meet you at last."

The old Jedi regarded her thoughtfully.

Later, she and Father stood side by side at the wall-glass, watching the Jedi embark on their transport.

As usual, she waited for him to speak and taking his cue, paid attention to the Jedi as they folded themselves into their vehicle. Master Yoda was gracefully helped in by Dooku, then the other Master followed and the Padawan served as chauffeur, jumping behind the wheel a little too exuberantly.

"What did you think of Master Yoda, child?" Father asked thoughtfully.

"He doesn't like me," Padmé said at once. There was no sadness or anger in her voice, just concern.

"Indeed? You'll have to do something about that then."

She sighed. "Yes, Father."

"What did you think of his Padawan?"

The blue exhaust flames of the speeder ignited. Her eyes were trained on the Padawan so she did not miss the sudden sharp turn his head made, the way his eyes seemed to leap across the distance and find hers. And hold them.

Then she blinked and the speeder was gone.

"I think Anakin Skywalker is a very talented Padawan, perceptive and physically adept. He hasn't mastered their serenity and he's not very skilled at hiding his emotions. He's also too aware of his talents for a proper Jedi. He still has a lot of training to do before he becomes one."

Father was silent. Padmé tried to gather her thoughts together. They seemed to have scattered before a pair of startling blue eyes.

"I also think Anakin Skywalker is not very sure he wants to be a Jedi."

Palpatine smiled. He turned to her and one of the yellow twinkles she loved were sparking in his eyes.

"You'll have to do something about that then."

* * *

_TBC_


	3. Leash

* * *

**3, Leash**

(18 years)

"Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi to see you, my lady."

Padmé looked up from the complicated embroidery. "Why, Master Kenobi! How good of you to come on such short notice."

The Jedi bowed stiffly.

With a graceful gesture of her hand, Padmé sent the handmaidens away. The antechamber was now empty save for her and her visitor. The meteorologist had chosen clear skies for Coruscant that day and bright sunlight poured in through the wall glass, highlighting secrets. Padmé noted the deep lines etched into Kenobi's face, particularly along his brow and the edges of his mouth, as well as the haunted expression in his eyes.

She smiled softly. "You haven't changed in the least."

The Jedi shot her a warning look and she resisted the urge to laugh out loud. Instead she just stared back at him, letting the mixture of contempt and amusement she felt toward him remain stark on her face.

He was the first to look away.

"How may I be of service to my lady?" The words were uttered with perfectly courteous spite.

Her smile turned positively incandescent.

--

Master Sifo-Dyas always dragged his feet to these public affairs and the display of excesses that never failed to horrify his austere soul. So when he heard his name through the crowd, he steeled himself for a stilting polite conversation with some self-important politician.

Instead, after the usual greetings, he found himself staring in confusion at Lady Naberrie and her unexpected companion.

"I thought you weren't available."

"I was persuaded."

Master Sifo-Dyas glanced from Obi-Wan Kenobi to the Chancellor's daughter in frank puzzlement. There was nothing disproportionately affectionate in their auras, and the comfortable way Padmé Naberrie's hand rested on Obi-Wan's elbow seemed more friendly than amorous.

And yet…

"Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi! How nice of you to grace us with your presence."

Through the rainbow colors of the ballroom decorations and the even wider spectrum of the ornamental guests, the tall dark figure of Dooku materialized before their small circle.

There was no mistaking the sarcasm in his voice. Clearly ruffled, young Kenobi bowed stiffly. "Master Dooku, how good to see you again."

Padmé Naberrie bowed in turn. "Your presence here does us great honor, Master Jedi."

Dooku bowed.

"Did you come alone or will Master Yoda be joining us later?"

"Master Yoda sends his apologies. His apprentice will represent him."

"Oh." She was disappointed but she recovered quickly. "And where is his apprentice?"

Dooku gave Lady Naberrie a rather strained smile and bowed yet again. Sifo-Dyas struggled with his own amusement as his old friend discretely rolled his eyes toward the ground.

Dooku straightened up. "He will be with us shortly," he said in a voice that punctuated the sentence with an 'or else.'

"It would be good to see young Skywalker," Sifo-Dyas reminisced. He gave Dooku a teasing smile. "Over in the Correllia Temple, we hear a lot of stories about him. A very high-spirited boy. He was – what? – eight when we left Coruscant, wasn't he, Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan nodded silently.

Dooku's gaze returned to the young Jedi. "How is Correllia, Knight Kenobi?"

"Very well sir," Obi-Wan said quietly. "Master Halcyon sends his regards."

"Does he now?"

The tension between the two was palpable. Padmé Naberrie stared from one to the other with an avid curiosity that made Sifo-Dyas writhe internally.

"Dooku, you are being discourteous. Have you congratulated Lady Naberrie on the celebration?" He blurted quickly. "She organized the events practically single-handedly."

Dooku stopped glaring at Obi-Wan long enough to pay Padmé Naberrie his proper respects. The young woman blushed. "However did you find out?"

Sifo-Dyas laughed. "We are not Jedi, for nothing, my lady."

"The real secret is how Jedi Kenobi wrangled an invitation here from the Chancellor's household," Dooku said smoothly.

Obi-Wan started. Sifo-Dyas bit back a groan. His friend was nothing if not one-track minded.

Padmé Naberrie smiled winningly at Dooku. "I persuaded him to come, Master Dooku. I needed an escort to the inauguration and," she glanced sideways at Obi-Wan, "an opportunity to catch up with an old friend."

"I did not know that you and Knight Kenobi had known each other for so long," Sifo-Dyas said, surprised. Obi-Wan had not lived on Coruscant for almost five years. Padmé Naberrie had only recently left Naboo to live with her adopted father on Coruscant.

This time she looked fully at Obi-Wan, an eyebrow raised. "Well, I guess a lowly handmaiden's name won't have entered his report about the Battle of Naboo."

"Don't be ridiculous," Obi-Wan said in that his soft voice, but his eyes were on Sifo-Dyas when he spoke.

Sifo-Dyas stared at them both in confusion. From the corner of his eye, he saw Dooku doing the same.

Padmé Naberrie laughed.

Obi-Wan Kenobi did not speak again for the rest of the evening.

--

_"Consciences are like leashes. Keep a firm grip and its owner remains your slave. But take care not to yank too hard. Even the best synth-leather has a breaking stress." _

_--Chancellor Palpatine. Quote extracted from the diary of Senator Naberrie. _


	4. Enchantment

I'm sorry for the long update and I hope you enjoy this one. I'm not sure about it but if I tweaked it any further, I would have gone mad. Thanks to everyone who left comments. I really appreciated them. Just to remind readers that this is an AU and hence, some of the things – e.g. Dooku being a Jedi and Sifo-Dyas being alive are not mistakes on my part.

**Mortal Instruments**

**4, Enchantment**

(continued from previous chapter)

Anakin arrived at the Inauguration, still smarting from Master Unduli's rebuke.

The incident at flight practice wasn't even his fault. Tru Veld had issued the challenge.

Anakin made his way past the colourful, semi-inebriated dignitaries and stepped into the Grand Hall. The bright lights and even brighter celebrities almost blinded him. Doing his best to master his emotions – particularly the one that complained loudly about being here in the first place – he located Master Dooku's aura and made his way to him.

Dooku was in conversation with Sifo-Dyas and the two paused to stare down at the Padawan.

"Skywalker, so glad you could make it."

Sifo-Dyas' sarcastic remark was indulgent but Anakin only heard the sarcasm. He flushed and stuttered in reply to Dooku's curt questions about his Intergalactic Marine Cultures Exam.

He usually escaped outside at the first opportunity and today was no exception. The first balcony he stepped into was occupied by a very affectionate couple. More than a little alarmed, Anakin retreated into another one.

She was wearing all the colours of the rainbow. Or at least that's how it seemed to him. In the half-light from the room within, her gown glowed pinks and oranges and blues. Beneath the thin material of the gown, her skin glowed even brighter.

Looking at her made his chest hurt.

She turned to smile at him and he looked away at once.

"I thought you won't come."

She was standing right next to him. He dared a quick glance and looked away before he fainted. "I – ah – why would you think that?"

"I don't know. You Jedi seem to disdain things like this." He could hear her smile.

"No, we don't," he retorted loyally.

"Really?"

He squirmed beside her palpable disbelief. "I guess we think the money thrown on things like this would be better spent elsewhere," he conceded.

"Instead of fancy parties for the legislators."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to." He risked a glance and saw that she was smiling easily. It intimidated him and bolstered him at the same time.

"And what if I did? It's true. There are so many problems in the Republic," he muttered.

"Such strong opinions! Are you sure you don't want to be a politician?" She laughed softly as she spoke. The sound made him a little lighthearted.

"I'm having enough problems just being a Jedi." He bit his lip as he said it, worried at what she would think, wanting to see what she would think.

He turned his head and this time, their eyes met. Hers were encouraging, sympathetic. He could feel himself blushing but he didn't look away again. "I'm here late because I got into a competition with one of my mates. Which I wasn't supposed to. But the Masters tell me to play to my strengths then they scold me when I do. It's confusing."

She didn't reply at once. Her eyes drifted away, looking thoughtful. He followed her gaze to the view he had barely noticed himself … the glass house containing the Grand Hall's artificially cultivated gardens, and beyond that, the steep slope of bright lights leading to the levels beneath.

"Anakin, I don't know much about being a Jedi but I think being a politician is a little easier."

"I guess so…" Silence. It was nice, peaceful. Sometimes their silences felt heavy as if they were still talking. This one was real silence and he liked it.

In the silence, he picked up on her sadness.

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Tell me," he asked softly.

"Today is the anniversary of my parents' death."

"Oh. Oh I am so sorry."

"Why should you be? It wasn't your fault."

"I know. I meant…"

She shivered beside him and his attention went back, almost as if he had forgotten, to her thin peacock dress and the soft skin beneath. It was very pale, the colour of pearls or beach sand in the moonlight. But he didn't believe her skin would feel like sand to touch…

Soft laughter jolted him from his trance. Blood rushed into his head, pooled in his ears.

"Enjoy your evening, Jedi Skywalker."

And with a whisper of silk, she had gone.


	5. Fiend

**5, Fiend**

_--It's a hard lesson to learn but eventually one realizes that there are really no permanent friendships in life. There are only permanent interests. If I had learnt this early enough, perhaps I won't have made so many permanent enemies. --_

From the diary of Senator Naberrie

/

(21 years)

Padmé could tell by the quick flutter of her lfashes that Cannila was not pleased to see her but other than that small self-betrayal, the Queen hid her feelings well.

Padmé was almost impressed.

"Your Majesty." She bowed low.

Queen Canilla, once Sabé Jankerrie of the Northern village, inclined her head in acknowledgement. Her eyes flashed at her handmaidens, and without a single word exchanged the trio of leaf-clothed women left.

Despite herself, Padmé felt her skin prickle with envy.

"Lady Naberrie," Canilla said in her strong, melodious voice. "It's been a long time. I was not expecting you."

Padmé smiled sweetly. "Your handmaidens passed on your regrets, Your Majesty. I realized that the only way I would gain audience with you would be in person."

The Queen's eyes flashed beneath the thick kohl. Padmé cringed inwardly at such an unbridled display of temper but all Canilla said was: "What did you wish to discuss with me?"

Her father would have preferred to approach the manner more obliquely but dealing with Sabé Jankerrie warranted such finesse. The two women had known each other since they were small children in the Junior Legislative Academy. Theirs was a multi-layered relationship.

"The Parliament is opposing my application for Senator on the grounds of my age, my lack of political experience, and my relationship with Chancellor Palpatine. Your vote of confidence will be most welcome."

Canilla stared. "You speak as if I have a choice."

Padmé stared back.

It was Her Majesty that looked away.

Her gown, a contraption of lotus petals and peacock feathers, seemed to whisper on the marble floor as she drifted to the large windows.

"Why do you hate me so much, Padmé?" She whispered, her back to Padmé.

Padmé started, genuinely surprised. "What? I don't hate you, Sabé."

Canilla laughed bitterly. One right hand rose a little as if she wanted to make a gesture, then she remembered herself, her office, and who she was. It fell stiffly to her side. "No, you just blackmail and undermine me at every opportunity."

"Can an innocent woman be blackmailed?" Padmé mused aloud.

"I made a mistake when I was fifteen and now I have to pay for it for the rest of my life?"

Padmé shrugged. "You could have resigned. You chose not. You chose to keep your office and buy my silence. We both win from this arrangement. I don't understand why we need to have this conversation over and over again."

"Because you would have kept silent if I had resigned?"

"At least you would have suffered the consequences as a private person, not the woman on whose head the whole of Naboo rests."

Slowly, the Queen turned around. The sun was behind her so her face was in shadow and for a moment, Padmé did not recognize her old acquaintance under the Queen's heavy make-up. For a moment, Padmé could not see Sabe in Canilla's face.

"That's what you hate about me, isn't it?"

The moment of disorientation passed as swiftly as it had come. "What?"

"My being Queen. You were so ambitious in the Academy and then suddenly, you killed your career. I rose from Princess to Sovereign while you were aspiring to be Chief Handmaiden. You hate me for that."

Padmé took her time answering. Let Canilla read weakness in her hesitation. It would be less damning than if she were to let loose the hot spew of rage that had risen within her at the other woman's words.

Clearly, it had been a long time since someone reminded Sabé Jankerrie of just what role she played in their relationship.

"Why should I envy you your office, Your _Majesty_? I am Lady Naberrie, daughter of the Chancellor of the Republic and free to do as I please within the limits of the law and society's expectations. You are Queen Canilla of Naboo; in one hand, you hold the emblem and with the other hand, you sign with the seal of your office. But is it truly _your_ right hand that dictates the law of this land, or _your_ left that governs its people? A lowly little orphan girl may not be Queen in name but you and I both know who really rules Naboo."

And Padmé smiled, a wide cat-like grin that she had once spent a whole summer perfecting.

She was still smiling when she left the Palace, the picture of Canilla's enraged face a cherished image in her brain.

/

He didn't have the influence in Theed that he did before – no Gungan really could boast of that – but Jar Jar Binks somehow managed to wrangle an audience with the Lady Naberrie before she left Naboo. There were whispers that the Queen would nominate her to replace the departing Senator. Lady Naberrie had never been a friend of the Gungans but it would have been foolhardy to ignore a woman who was about to become a doubly powerful player in the politics of his world.

The tall Gungan stepped into the antechamber, stumbling a little over the instep. Padmé's hand flew automatically to the knife in her sash – a throwback from her old handmaiden's days – but other than that, she remained still even though her heart was beating faster than a raging reek.

"Lady Naberrie, itsa so good to see yousa."

She let him bow over her hand and considered slashing the back of his neck with her knife. Instead, she spoke softly and offered him a seat while she remained standing by the other door, and listened with every indication of patient attention as he explained to her the reason for his appointment.

He had nothing to tell her that she wasn't already aware of: She had already heard the rumours of the proposed Amendment, the latest in a never-ending series of Amendments to the Gungan Registration Act. If she wanted to, Padmé could have told him how much of the proposed relocation of the Gungans was fiction and how much of it was real. She could have told him the schedule of relocation, and the Gungan settlements affected. She could have gone even further to give him a date for the next Amendment and outlined the overall plan for the complete Gungan expulsion from Naboo to the moon settlement of Ohma d'Un. And when he looked at her with horror filling his dark eyes, she would have explained to him that that was the better alternative to what was once her original plan for the 'welfare' of the Gungans of Naboo.

Of course, Padmé had no intention of telling Binks anything of the sort. She smiled more kind smiles, and made more attentive comments and finally, she walked him to the door, one hand affectionately but firmly on his elbow, the other hand holding firmly to her sash and the weapon underneath it.

It was only after she had seen his gangly frame disappear down the corridor that her rapidly beating heart slowed, and the hatred and fear within her began to dissipate. After a while, she was even smiling.

Jar Jar Binks walked slowly back to Otoh Gunga, pondering, not for the first time, over the problem of Lady Padmé Naberrie and her secret vendetta against the Gungans. Now that Lady Naberrie was about to become Senator Naberrie, the finding a solution to that problem was no longer an academic exercise. It might mean their very survival.

/

(22 years)

The first threat amused her. The second irritated her. She didn't burn the third quickly enough and to her eternal fury and embarrassment, her Father discovered it during an after-hours visit to the Office of the Naboo Delegation.

She seethed and stammered that she would have told him if it was of any importance and that really, "the situation was not that serious", and with every word she could see the worry lines growing deeper in Palpatine's face.

She knew what he was about to say but that didn't make hearing the words any easier.

"Perhaps you require additional protection."

Padmé gritted her teeth. "No, Father, I do not. The Trade Federation is obviously behind this. Why can't CorSec just do their job?"

"Your quarrel was with Nute Gunray and he's been in prison since the Battle of Naboo. The last I heard, he hasn't left."

"He still has his contacts, his allies in the Trade Federation. That entire organization is illegal!"

"Keep your voice down, child."

He spoke quietly enough. But Padmé had learnt to listen for that edge of steel. The angry flush bled out of her cheeks and her hands went cold.

"I'm sorry, Father," she said quietly.

Palpatine said nothing. He had turned his face away from her as if he couldn't bear to look at her. Padmé swallowed down the urge to plea or persist in any form. It would be useless. At this moment, he was ashamed of her and her lack of self-control and she felt the same way herself.

Stiffly, she stepped back and dropped into a formal bow.

"If you'll excuse me, Your Excellency," she said softly. She turned on her heel and walked to the door.

"Padmé."

She stopped, and spinning on her heel so swiftly that she stumbled a bit.

Even though his face was still turned away from her, his voice was warm. "If you're uncomfortable with the idea of extra protection, then I will recommend someone you're familiar with. Perhaps… Anakin Skywalker?" He turned to her then, and she could see that his eyes were twinkling. "Do it for me, my daughter. The thought of losing you will be unbearable."

It was relief that filled her first. Then anticipation. She walked towards him with a cat-like smile that she knew was the mirror image of his own.


	6. Tempt

**6, Tempt**

Padmé almost didn't recognize the tall boy – young man – looking at her above Obi-Wan Kenobi's shoulder. If she hadn't been expecting to see him, she would have passed him on the street as a complete stranger.

Or maybe not. Even though he was taller, and leaner and impossibly more handsome than she remembered, the one thing about Skywalker that had not changed were those remarkable eyes.

"Senator Naberrie, it is a great pleasure to see you again."

The dry sound of Obi-Wan's voice broke her out of the semi-daze that had fallen on her the moment Skywalker stepped into her apartment. She turned to return Kenobi's greeting, her eyes narrowing a little at the knowing look on his face, before her attention returned to Skywalker.

"Anakin, my goodness, you've grown," she said and she didn't even need to make her voice soft and meaningful.

His eyes didn't quite meet hers as he stammered something in reply, but he didn't blush as easily as he did four years ago. She would have to remember that.

/

"So what have you been up to these five years?"

Skywalker looked up from his pensive gaze at the window, and smiled a little. Padmé felt something in her chest loosen a bit.

"Studying with my Masters." His smile broadened. "Remember when I used to complain about my studies in Coruscant? It's nothing compared to the work I had to do in Correllia."

She laughed, walking around the sofa and sitting. "How is the Temple there? Is it very different from the one here?" She shifted the pillows so that he could sit beside her.

He came to stand by her side, but he didn't sit down. "I have more Masters there. I have less friends."

She sniffed. "You'd know all about keeping friends, won't you?"

He started. "I don't understand…"

"You hurt my feelings, you know? Leaving without a word?"

"That's not true. I sent a message to you."

"A message!" Padmé snorted. "Is that all we meant to each other?"

He just stared at her, apparently at a loss for words. He actually looked more surprised than flattered. "I would have liked to have said good bye to you," he said at last. The unspoken words were just as loud: _But I didn't want to bother you. _

She reached for the pitcher of water beside her and poured it into the two glasses. "So why did you run off to Correllia then?"

"I didn't run off," Skywalker retorted, taking the glass she offered him. "Master Yoda thought a change in atmosphere would be good for my training."

"So he ships off his own apprentice to other Masters to train? I didn't think that was the Jedi's style. Aren't you supposed to be by your Master's side until you graduate from Jedi school?"

"You really don't know much about the Jedi at all, do you?"

"And… I can see they didn't teach you much manners in Correllia."

"Correllia politics is less pretentious than Coruscant, if that's what you mean. Talking of which," he continued over her small gasp, "congratulations on your appointment as Senator. I remember you telling me that you weren't a likely candidate."

"I'm surprised you remember anything about me at all," was all she managed to say.

"Oh, I remember enough." The insufferable Jedi brat lifted the glass to his lips and looked down at her over the rim.

It annoyed Padmé to no end how often she played back the memory of that last glance. How often her mind dwelt on those half-lidded eyes, the hint of blue just peeking… smirking down at her and making her blood boil. How the way his lips had grinned around the glass had set her blood boiling. Or the way her own eyes had followed the strong line of his throat as he drank. How the whole conversation had completely thrown her off balance – this was not the shy, awestruck boy she remembered from five years ago – and how her hands had simultaneously itched to slap him and to reach out and touch that sharp, sarcastic mouth.

It annoyed her but she forced herself to examine the matter rationally. So she was attracted to Anakin Skywalker. It made sense that she would go from being sympathetic to the young boy whom she befriended to being attracted to the man he had grown up into. The long separation and the unexpected confidence, bothering on arrogance in him had only served to make him more appealing. That was something she could use. After all, her role in this scheme of her father's did not have to be distasteful.

It would be so much easier to seduce Anakin Skywalker now that she actually wanted to.

/

The small party gathered on the landing platform waited while the Padawan and Chief Typho did a sweep of the Senator's speeder.

The senator in question was testy. "This is getting tedious. A droid could have performed those checks."

The Jedi Knight beside her said quietly, "Droids can be re-programmed. Jedi cannot. Pardon the inconvenience, my lady, but we take your security very seriously."

"Yes, I know how much you would hate that anything happened to me, Obi-Wan."

At first he said nothing, and to all appearances, his attention was trained on his Padawan and the Naboo security chief. Padmé had almost forgotten her own statement when he finally did answer, "If you don't trust me, why did you request me to be part of your security detail?"

She smiled. "Perhaps I wanted the company of an old friend."

"I know what you're up to, you know."

"You do?"

"Anakin. I know what you're trying to do to him and-" he spoke over the words she was about to say, cutting her off without once raising his voice or turning to look at her – "I won't let you succeed."

She actually laughed. To her secretary Teckla and Guan, the other security officer who stood a little away, just out of earshot the Senator and the Jedi Knight might have appeared to be having a companionable conversation. Across the landing pad, Anakin actually looked up from the datapad in his hand. She couldn't tell for certain, but there was a slight frown on his face.

Still laughing, she rested her hand on Obi-Wan's arm, feeling the tension beneath her grip. "Let's pretend that I really have some nefarious plan up my sleeve for the young Padawan. Let's even pretend that I don't have any kind of hold" and her fingers clenched just a little on his arm "on you. What, pray tell, can you do to stop me?"

Obi-Wan turned to face her then. The trapped, furious look on his face was exactly what she had been expecting and she leaned towards him, her smile never wavering as she watched the young Padawan approach them from the corner of her eye. Obi-Wan opened his mouth to speak – and then shoved her.

She fell hard on her side, one wrist twisting painfully beneath her as she tried instinctively to break her fall. She screamed – not from pain, but from shock – then screamed again when the sky was suddenly blocked by the figure of Anakin Skywalker, crouching over her, his lightsabre swinging over her head so swiftly, it looked like a laser shield.

"What-?" she tried to sit up.

Anakin pushed her down with one hand. For one still, charged moment, she was looking directly into bright, hard blue eyes, then he looked away and as if the sound was slowly being turned on, she started hearing the buzzing of lightsabres, the ricochet of blaster fire, and the screams from the people in her party…

"Teckla." She tried to sit up again and Anakin held her down effortlessly.

"Stay down, milady," he shouted. "Typho!"

Padmé could hear her captain shout something but she couldn't make out the words. She was listening hard for the sound of Teckla's voice, for her screams, even but she couldn't hear anything. The blaster fire had not abated.

Memories of the Battle of Naboo assailed her.

_An exploding grenade throwing her across the field as a dead body (Sache) landed beside her own. Her leg trapped under a droideka as a line of battle droids approached. _

_Trapped._

_Trapped._

/

"I expected better of you, Padmé."

It was rare to see Father angry. He wasn't angry now, not really. But the dark splotches on his cheek showed that he must have been when he first got the news.

Padmé held her tongue and fought against the urge to twist her fingers. She was humbled but she was not contrite.

"It is reprehensible enough that you would endanger your own life. But your actions endangered the lives of everyone around you. That man's death is on your head."

She blanched. It was only the sensation of Anakin's strong and sudden grip on her shoulder that steadied her.

"Your Excellency-" Anakin said quietly.

"I am extremely disappointed in you, Padmé."

"Your Excellency, that will do!"

Padmé jumped. She wasn't the only one. Father had fallen abruptly silent. Jedi Kenobi and Master Dooku had turned sharply to glare at the Padawan standing above her.

"I beg your pardon, Padawan Skywalker?" Father asked, and Padmé was probably the only one in the room who could tell from his voice that he was extremely furious.

Anakin retorted, "Guan was already dead when Senator Naberrie took action. The rest of us-"

"Padawan Skywalker," Master Dooku said, his voice alone a warning.

"No, Master, I have to say this. We all might have died if the senator hadn't acted when she did. Master Kenobi had gone off in pursuit of the bounty hunter while I defended the party against the probe shooters. If not for her quick action in taking out the source of the shooters, I would have been overwhelmed eventually." His hand squeezed her shoulder. "There is nothing to reproach her with, Your Excellency. Nothing whatsoever."

There was silence. Her Father's eyes were unreadable, even to her. Dooku looked expressionlessly furious. Obi-Wan was staring at her – or rather at her and Anakin – with narrowed eyes.

Then the Chancellor sighed. "It looks like I owe you an apology, my dear. Can you forgive a father who worries too much for his child?" he asked gently and stretched out his hand.

"There is nothing to forgive, Father," she said softly and took his hand, allowing him to pull her into an embrace. She had to step away from Anakin and perhaps she imagined that his grip had tightened momentarily, as if he had not wanted to let her go.

The momentary reluctance that she had felt when she reached for her father's hand filled her with guilt.

Above his daughter's head, Palpatine locked gazes with Anakin Skywalker and smiled.


End file.
